


interlude

by BlackRoseHunter



Series: in tongues - retrospective studies on the cancer crew [1]
Category: Cancer Crew - Fandom, Filthy Frank Show - Fandom, IDubbbzTV - Fandom, Maxmoefoe - Fandom, Unholy Trinity (Youtube) - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: "joji" is george's nickname, (if you squint), (not bondage heh), Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Blood, Blood and Violence, Bonding, Comfort, Confessions, Crushes, Crying, Cuddling and Snuggling, Dark, Drama, Enemies, Feelings, Fighting, Fights, First Kisses, Fist Fights, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gore, High School AU, Homophobia, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Injury, Introspection, Kissing, Language, Love, M/M, One Shot, Original Character(s), Pain, Pining, Plot, Quite Literally, Relationship(s), Romance, Sad, Secrets, Slow Build, Teenagers, Tension, Underage Drinking, Violence, a lil bit of japanese in there cause i can, alternate universe - normal world/no youtube, but they throw up on camera for that ad revenue so it's my job ig, fake characters, fight, i'm just lost boys, in tongues, inspired by joji, i’m debating on making a sequel of george’s perspective for a bit more angst, joji - Freeform, more tags because why tf not, mostly me projecting my sadism onto something other than the world, no references to youtube careers, other than joji's music, please end me honestly, possible crying?, sickening fluff at the end there if you squint, tbfh, thanks @ google translate, there was probably alcohol involved so, this is also somewhat of a violation of these guys as human beings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 07:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15456741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackRoseHunter/pseuds/BlackRoseHunter
Summary: So maybe they were drunk. And maybe Max wanted to hold Ian’s hand because he couldn’t see straight in the dark without his glasses and he needed guidance. And maybe Ian wasn’t suddenly shouting something in his ear about leaving them alone. And maybe Max didn’t sober up enough until after the first punch was thrown to realise what he should be doing.Maybe it’s too late.





	interlude

**Author's Note:**

> * * *
> 
> i have absolutely no idea why i’m writing this, only that i saw a post on tumblr i might link later about the fight in the beginning of joji’s “worldstar money interlude” on the “in tongues” ep, so now this is here. don’t ask questions because i have no answers. this is mostly just me projecting emotions onto people because i’m really fucking bored. anyway, i love you guys, and thanks for reading this because honestly it’s sad but true that i’m genuinely enjoying these guys’ content. but yeah. 
> 
> * * *
> 
> (this is technically teen and up content but i chose mature in case people aren’t okay with the language or the violence, which might contain references to blood and gore, etc.)
> 
> * * *
> 
> i recommend listening to the [“in tongues ep” by joji](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kU7LF5mYZkw), especially the full visual uploaded by 88rising.
> 
> * * *
> 
> edit: now that i’m thinking about it, this is a high school au now. fight me, i guess.
> 
> * * *
> 
> also, this wasn't really proofread or anything, so you might see updates in the future as i slowly regain my energy to write and work wonders.
> 
> um, so, this is probably trash but i'm uploading it now so i can print it and proofread it later, so yeah. i havn't done any proofreading yet, either, so excuse mistakes. have fun with this monstrosity.
> 
> * * *

* * *

There were a few things Max was thinking when Ian grabbed his arm and dragged him in some random direction in the middle of the party. One, what the fuck?, two, no, I don’t wanna go, let me finish my beer first, and three, woah, hey, you’re touching me, wow. He almost found it in himself to voice the latter but chose to instead shout into Ian’s ear about his displeasure.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Max had to yell to be heard over the thumping bass and the people talking around them. He took another swig from his bottle and then tried to yank out of Ian’s grip, to no avail.

As they walked, Max’s head began to swim from the combination of writhing bodies on every side of himself and the few (many) beers he had in his system.

“We need to leave!” Ian shouted back. Max didn’t really understand what he said but he finally gave up and followed, discarding his bottle after a final sip on a nearby table and relenting to Ian’s incessant tug on his arm.

Ian shoved through a side door and they were bathed in street light and cool air, which made Max’s head spin more and begin to cough. Ian dragged him onward until they came to a bench beneath a street lamp where they rested for a moment.

“Dude, you’re fuckin’ shitfaced.” Ian leaned forward to watch Max as he stared off into the night sky.

“No fuckin’ way,” Max’s accent seemed to thicken, voice slurring loudly into the quiet. Ian cringed and knocked the back of Max’s head with his palm.

“Quiet down. Someone’ll hear us,” Ian grunted and pushed himself into a standing position, wavering for a moment as his own drunk caught up with him. If he was drunk, Max was done for. “Come on.”

Ian grabbed Max’s arm and tugged him up from the bench, continuing their trek to Max’s house because it was closer.

“Why didn’t we fuckin’ drive?” Max groaned loudly. He seemed to have no sense of volume, either. Ian rolled his eyes, then felt like he was plunging into the ground. He didn’t like that feeling.

“Because we’re drunk. Now shut up.”

They hadn’t gotten far before the street lamps cut out and they were bathed in the darkness of back streets. Max seemed to sense Ian’s uneasiness because he made to turn onto a main road and get back into the light. They knew they lived in a shitty area, but they weren’t about to let themselves get killed or something.

Max found himself focusing on the hand holding his upper arm for something to do. The sudden urge to grab Ian’s hand was odd to him. Did he always feel like this? Maybe he did and he really liked the idea of that. Maybe he really was shitfaced and no idea what he was talking about.

Ian glanced over to check on Max and found him staring at some point in the middle distance, distracted.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Max ran his free hand through his hair and shook his head, stopping when he got dizzy and felt like he was gonna puke. He groaned, bumping into Ian’s side involuntarily, hair, tickling the taller’s neck. Ian didn’t seem to react beyond the tightening of his steadying hand on Max’s left arm.

“Dude, you’re fucked.” Ian finally said. They were nearing Max’s house, but not fast enough. Fast, though, Ian realised, meant that Max’s parents would see him like this and fuck him up worse than he already was. But the slower they walked, the more at risk they were to get jumped or some shit like that, so he was at a draw as to what to do.

Max didn’t respond, just pressed himself into Ian’s side even further when his head spun.

“What are you, a fuckin faggot?” Ian joked, shoving Max off himself. Max laughed quietly to himself, finally seeming to settle down a bit. Ian grinned and let Max settle back into his side unknowingly. To his surprise, Max answered in a drunken slur.

“Yeah, probably,” he giggled to himself. Ian was sober enough to know that Max was probably joking and too drunk to realise what he was saying. He smiled anyway, letting Max stay pressed against his side.

“So like,” Max continued without prompting. “I would totally fuckin’ hold your hand right now, dude.”

Ian couldn’t help but roll his eyes, smiling like an idiot. Max was hilarious. He definitely wasn’t ignoring that tiny pang in his chest when Max said those words, definitely didn’t want Max to think stuff like that.

They were almost home at that point. Nearby Max’ house was a parking lot to some old store that had closed years ago and never reopened. Ian could faintly see in the dim light a group of people their age standing around under a lamp, dicking around and chain-smoking like Max loved to do on slow weekends. They noticed Max and Ian’s loose, stumbling walk down the sidewalk as soon as the light was shining on them, prompting one to call out.

“Hey, faggots!” Ian couldn’t tell if the guy was joking or if he mistook his hand on max’s arm, guiding him. Wait, did he know them?

“Yo,” another called, hand practically down some girl’s ass. “We’re talking to you, cunts!”

Ian turned to look at them, slowing at the fence’s opening into the parking lot. He didn’t like where this was going, but he stopped anyway, mostly because Max was lagging behind with an odd squint on his face.

“Fuck off, cunts!” Max shouted, hands shoving into his hoodie’s pockets. He couldn’t see straight, let alone think about what he was staring.

“That your boyfriend, fag?” Another guy chimed in. “He’s pretty cute. Can I have him?”

The guy made a kissing face at them, earning a laugh from his friends. He cackled along with them.

“Shut up, fuckers,” Ian called out, sounding a bit unsure of himself. What was wrong with him?

“You wanna make us?” The first guy called. He seemed like he was the so-called “leader” of the group.

Ian didn’t know what made him snap, but suddenly he was letting go of Max’s arm (though Max trailed along behind him like a lost puppy, anyway) and stalking up to the group of idiots who dared fuck with them at one in the morning. He stormed up the group as they approached him slowly, squaring up as if it would scare Ian off.

Max couldn’t exactly comprehend what was happening. Some guy was harassing them and Ian got pissed off, but why? Where were they going? Where were they supposed to be going? What was even happening now?

Ian said something Max didn’t catch, which led to a communal shouting match between him and the group. He couldn’t make anything out then, either. He was just left to himself to figure out how to help.

“Get out of my face, Ian!” Max could make that out as he stood behind Ian, watching with discontent as he dug for his glasses in his pockets. Ian said something else. Did Ian know these guys? How did they know his name? Max found his glasses and cleared his sight up a bit more than it had been, helping with the spinning his head was currently doing.

Ian and the first guy were now standing face to face, almost touching each other. Ian was shouting almost as loudly as the guy was into his face. Max squinted and then sobered up a bit when the guy shoved Ian backwards, almost into Max himself.

“Ian!” Max shouted, hoping to pull the attention to himself. It didn’t work, only resulted in Ian shoving the guy back.

Max looked back on the night at quite an inopportune moment, but leading up to this wasn’t the most fantastic time he’d ever had. He’d been dragged out of the greatest party of his life by his best friend because they needed to leave before his parents shat bricks, affirmed just how fucking gay he was, wanted to hold his best friend’s hand in the middle of the night because, wow, Max was obsessed with this guy and that was pretty gay. On top of all of that, Ian and some guy he apparently knew were shouting into each other’s faces.

Max was pretty fucking sober when Ian was knocked backward by a strong punch to his face. He wasn’t fazed, though, opting instead to fight back, landing a few square punches to the fucker’s face and then locking together in a match of who could knock the other out first. The others from the guy’s group realised the severity of the fight and started to shout at them again, this time telling them to stop. Finally, they resorted to pulling the guy off of Ian, prompting Max to do the same with his friend. They were still cussing and spitting at each other as Max dragged Ian off, a change in perspective as the adrenaline wore off and Ian was leaning against Max heavily, arm draped over his shoulders. Max mostly carried Ian off while cursing the guys out, walking faster than before now that he was much more sober and could see properly.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Max yelled quietly, adjusting his grip on Ian’s waist. He chose to ignore how close they were to each other.

“He called you a fag, dude,” Ian groaned, limping as best he could next to Max. “He can’t do that.”

“Ian, you absolute fuck,” Max said. “I don’t fuckin’ care! You got in a fight because some guy was being a dumbass!”

“Yeah, but…” Ian whined. He trailed off and didn’t finish.

“But what?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“Jesus fuck, dude.” Max shook his head as Ian leaned further into him, seemingly losing energy by the step.

There was blood slowly drying around Ian's nose. Two large cuts crossed his cheekbone and forehead, while smaller bruises and scratches littered the rest of his visible skin. Max didn't like looking too long at him, partially because of the damage, partly because he didn't need Ian making gay jokes about him staring right now. He had absolutely no idea what to do with the boy now.

Max reached for his phone with his good hand and opened his call app, finding the right contact and dialling the number in. It picked up after six rings to a very tired voice.

“What d’you want?”

“Hi, Joji. So listen. Do you know where I am right now?” Max asked, voice strangely calm. Ian braced himself for the shouting he knew would follow.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at some party or somethin’?” Joji yawned audibly and there was a sound like he had fallen back into his bed. “Dude, what do you want?”

“I’m not at any party, now, Joji. I’m walking down the street with Ian hanging off me like a drunken schoolgirl. Y’know why?” Max paused long enough for the effect to settle in. Joji didn’t answer. “Ian got in a fucking fist fight!”

Joji groaned into the speaker and rolled over. “マジかよ〜” He muttered, voice muffled.

“What?”

“Get him home or something so he doesn’t do any more stupid shit.”

“I’m trying. It’s not going too quickly.” As if to reassure his point, Ian stumbled with a groan beside him. “Jesus fuck, dude.”

“Just, I dunno, get home. Do something. I’m going now.” Joji muttered. The call ended before Max could say anything.

“Fucker.” They continued walking in silence for a few beats.

"How close are we to your place?” Ian murmured after a while.

“Literally right down the street,” Max replied, turning a final corner and finish off the drag of Ian’s body to his doorstep. “We can’t go in like this. My parents will freak the fuck out.”

“Then go-” Ian stuttered, failing as he put pressure on his leg. “Go in through the back.”

“We can’t. They’ll hear.”

Max and Ian looked up at the same time, both eyeing the lattice-work to the side of the house right next to Max’s window. They then turned and looked each other in the eye, both having the same thought.

“That’s fucked, man.” Max shook his head but headed for the lattice. “How are we even gonna do this? You can barely walk, let alone climb.”

“I’ll be fine, fuck off.” Ian started up the lattice first, cringing every time he put pressure on one leg. Max followed close behind, prepared to attempt at catching Ian if he needed to.

“Be careful,” he called up, quietly so no one would hear.

“I am.”

Ian pulled himself up onto the lip of the roof outside Max’s window, reaching down to help pull Max up behind him. With a final tug, they were both up and almost sitting on top of each other. Max ignored the closeness and pushed past Ian, crawling down the roofing to his window, which he pushed up and began to slide in feet first.

“Have you done this before?” Ian asked quietly, watching Max’s ease at lowering himself silently into the room through the opening.

“Yeah, all the fucking time. Be quiet.” Max reached out to help Ian in through the window, which resulted in an awkward beat of silence, followed by Ian practically tumbling into the room and landing on top of Max with a grunt.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Max shoved at Ian, hoping he would take the hint. “You fuckin’ faggot.”

Ian grinned wryly and got down into Max’s face, trying to stay quiet as he chortled to himself.

“Get off,” Max shoved Ian one final time, landing him on the floor beside him with a thud. “Dude, be quiet!”

They both stopped and listened for a moment, but the TV on downstairs stayed at the level it was before. Max exhaled after a moment, realising he had been holding his breath. His head hit the floor softly, splaying dark locks out around his head like some demonic angel. Ian sat up and stared for a moment, looking away only when Max sighed deeply and opened his eyes.

"You fuckin’ faggot.”

“Fuck you.”

Max stood up quietly and brought Ian up with him, cracking his bedroom door open and slowly ambling toward the bathroom, Ian in tow, stumbling every other step.

“Dude, you’re fucked,” Max reiterated when they finally reached the upstairs bathroom and the door was closed and locked so his parents wouldn’t intervene.

“I’m aware.”

Max didn’t answer. He didn’t flip a light on, instead opted to paw through the medicine cabinet without being able to see much. He would stop to peer over at Ian’s shadowed face and decide what they needed. A few band-aids and a disinfectant cloth later, Max was kneeling in front of Ian as he sat on the closed lid of the toilet, one leg outstretched painfully.

“Damn, dude,” Max breathed, studying the damage head-on for the first time. “He really did a number on ya’.”

“Mmhm,” Ian hummed, trying not to move as Max cleaned the large cut along his right cheekbone. He flinched at the alcohol’s sting, saying nothing still.

Max worked in silence for a moment, pulling out butterfly band-aids to pinch the wound and the other cut on his forehead shut. Ian cringed for most of it, hating the pain that was sobering him up slowly.

“Jesus Christ,” Max muttered as he finished up, reached up first to Ian’s forehead to cover the smaller bandaids with a large one, then to his cheek to do the same. One of Ian’s eyes was beginning to swell up and bruise, but Max couldn’t do anything about that. He looked away for a moment, searching for something among the mess of band-aid wrappers, fingers still gently smoothing the band-aids out on Ian’s cheek. His hand stayed there, poised against Ian’s face as he dug through the cupboard beneath the sink for something Ian couldn’t see. Max wouldn’t admit to himself that he was doing everything he could just to pretend like he was distracted so he could keep his hand against Ian’s cheek. Ian wouldn’t admit to himself that he was leaning into Max’s hand as he lost himself in thought.

Max didn’t know what he was looking for. He stopped and closed the cabinet door, sighing softly, hand still precariously pressed against the bandage on Ian’s face. He stopped what he was doing and dared a glance up at Ian, finding the taller’s eyes trained intensely on his own. He stared back for a moment, wondering if Ian realised what he was doing or if he was just lost in thought. When he blinked, though, the stare still stayed engrained on Max’s face, flitting down to his lips for mere instants, until Max couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

Max reached up with the hand previously caressing Ian’s face and pulled him downward, meeting him halfway in an awkward kiss of bumping noses and untrained hands. Max kept his eyes shut, afraid that if he opened them he would have to face the consequences of kissing his best friend with no explanation. Before he could pull away, there was a hand on his own cheek that held him in place and Ian was kissing him back and maybe he didn’t need an explanation because this was it.

Max pulled away first, inhaling deeply to replenish his aching lungs as Ian stared at him incredulously, obviously hoping for the explanation Max had just thrown out the window. Max started laughing first, leaning forward so he could rest his head against Ian’s chest and listen as he laughed along, trying not to think too much about anything that had just happened. He could faintly feel Ian’s heart pulsing beneath his skin.

Ian hesitantly wrapped his arms around the boy in front of him, leaning into his sore chest and laughing silently to himself. He couldn’t help his smile, couldn’t help leaning down to rest his chin in the mop of curls on Max’s head. He closed his eyes and just breathed for a moment.

Max turned his head slightly, arms resting awkwardly on Ian’s hips, so he could speak. “D’you wanna go home?”

“No.”

Then Max was pulling away and standing up, pulling Ian en-suit with him. He locked their fingers together and they snuck back to Max’s room, closing the door and leaving the window open for the sake of it.

Max fell into bed, practically throwing himself on top of the unkempt covers and snuggling into the pillows, pulling Ian down with him, followed by a shocked gasp and a muffled giggle. Max rolled over to come face to face with Ian, noses almost touching. He blinked a few times, then exhaled slowly.

“That’s pretty fuckin’ gay, dude,” Ian murmured, despite having an arm thrown over Max’s waist. Max rolled his eyes.

“Not as gay as kissing a dude, Ian,” Max said pointedly, absently toying with Ian’s fingers still intertwined with his own.

“You kissed me, you fuckin’ faggot,” Ian grinned nevertheless. He curled an arm up under a pillow to find a more comfortable position, shifting slightly with Max so the blanket could be tugged over them. “Y’know, you literally kissed me once and I’m already sleeping with you. Whore.”

Max smirked, taking his glasses off and setting them somewhere. “You’ve slept in my bed how many times now?”

“That’s different,” Ian protested. “Sleeping over isn’t the same as sleeping together.”

“You’re making it sound like we fucked.” Max deadpanned. Ian took his own glasses off. “Making yourself at home, eh?”

Ian kissed him again to shut him up.

“Go to sleep.” He murmured.

“I have dibs on big spoon,” Max could feel Ian’s breath on his cheek.

“I’m taller, fucker.”

“Fuck you.”

“Later. Go to sleep.”

“Fine.” Max kissed him one final time and rolled over, letting Ian curl around him and adjust the blankets.

“If your parents find us like this-”

“They won’t, dude. They don’t care when I get up on the weekends.”

“Shit, it’s the weekend.”

“Yeah, it’s like, two AM,” Max mumbled, obviously trying to get Ian to shut up and go to sleep.

“Damn.”

“Yeah, it wouldn’t be two AM if you hadn’t gotten your face totally fucked.” Ian poked his ribs, earning a small noise of discontent.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t get my faced fucked up.”

“Ian,” Max said, prepared to roll over and gag him if he kept talking.

"Yes?”

“Go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> * * *
> 
> cover credit: [ Brixen](https://www.quotev.com/queenbrix) at [┌ TᕼE ᖴᖇEᗩK ᔕᕼOᗯ ┘](https://www.quotev.com/groups/242818/topic/4924204)
> 
> song credit: [worldstar money interlude](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgV1Y3cv35I>worldstar%20money%20interlude</a></p>%0A%0A<p%20align=)
> 
> * * *
> 
> so, apparently i've lost said post and can't seem to find it, so if you want to help me out and look for it on tumblr, you can find me there @blackrosehunter. if you find the post, please send it to me because i really need it. for reasons.
> 
> (i'm kidding.)
> 
> * * *
> 
> also, if you're interested, below is the original google doc that i typed this up on with all the planning and shit that i did, so if you're interested just click and you'll hopefully be able to see it and see how i plan stuff out!
> 
> * * *
> 
> UPDATE!!!!
> 
> ahem, sorry.
> 
> anyway, i found the post after searching for about five years, which i will also link below so you can see.
> 
> * * *
> 
> google doc: [google document](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GFQAu6o82Enz67Osbrp92NDrbyhbCBjVEvFzjvaLZ-k/edit?usp=sharing)
> 
> tumblr post: [tumblr post](https://brokeboiiii.tumblr.com/post/168091780481/i-might-be-looking-into-this-too-much-but)
> 
> * * *
> 
> final update, i promise:
> 
> after a long while of contemplation, i've decided i might write out a sequel to this from joji's perspective to go into why he wasn't there and stuff. my inspiration for that will show up whenever i post it. but yeah, my next fic will be a sequel-type thing, which will also fit into the part joji played in this. they'll tie together, like what's happening with joji is happening while max and ian are fucking around while shit faced in the bad part of town, is what i'm trying to say.
> 
> so yeah. thanks so much, once again.
> 
> * * *


End file.
